Page 134 of Long Way Down

The uptilted corner of Mav’s mouth saidcome on, kid. “That you’re in love with her.”

There were all sorts of delicious smells coming from the kitchen, but right now, they turned Pongo’s stomach. His pulse struggled like a trapped bird, battering itself against his ribs and wrists.

“I’m not surprised,” Maverick went on, in the face of whatever stricken expression he was offering. “You can talk the talk, but you’re not a playboy, not really. I know the casual, club girl scene never sat right with you. And then when I met Dixon, during the Beaumont thing, well. She’s a pretty girl. Mean as a snake, as my mom would say. That’s hot.”

Pongo snorted, the laugh trapped in his throat more hysterical than anything.

“I could tell you liked her, but I should have realized then that it was more thanlike. I shoulda come down here the second you told me you were looking into one of her suspects.”

He finally managed to swallow, and said, “Why? So you could threaten her?” He wasn’t sure what he’d do if Mav saidyes, but he knew it would create an untenable situation. A decision would have to be made, most likely one that involved a tattoo gun and a shit-ton of black ink.

“No,” Maverick said, calm, steady. “So I could come talk to both of you, and offer you backup. Neither of you should have to deal with this on your own.”

Behind him, from the mouth of the hallway, Dixie said, “What choice did we have?” and his heart stopped beating altogether.

~*~

Melissa had awakened to a dark room, an unfamiliar bed, and the sound of male voices beyond a wall.

She’d panicked, in the time it took to throw off the covers, sit up – and whack her head on something hard. “Shit,” she’d hissed, and reached for the rapidly-forming bump along her hairline.

A quick feel-around with her hands revealed a wooden frame above her, and slats running crosswise. Bunkbeds, she thought, wildly curious, because by that point she’d remembered where she was: at Pongo’s place. Apparently, Pongo had bunk beds – which made more sense given that it was really the club’s place, and not his personal apartment. And that must mean that the voices she heard belonged to other Lean Dogs.

More curious than frightened – she’d used up her allotment of fear, and didn’t think she would be recharged in that area for at least another twelve hours – she’d slipped out of the bottom bunk and crept to the cracked-open door on socked feet to eavesdrop.

She heard a thick accent, and determined that must be the aforementioned Toly, Russian and joyless.

There were two others. “Shep,” one barked, followed by grumbling, and then it was just the one who’d done the barking, and Pongo, talking in low tones.

She could hear every word.

“Did you think I’d be angry?”

“Angry about what?”

“That you’re in love with her.”

Love. That certainly was…a word. That someone had just said.

A twinge of pain in her lungs reminded her to take another breath. Made herself stand there, and tried actively to listen, while her pulse turned hectic.

Love.

“Neither of you should have to deal with this on your own,” the person talking to Pongo said, and she stepped out into the light of the living room, wincing at its brightness.

The man sitting across from Pongo was vaguely familiar from the night of the raid on the Beaumont. Dark hair going gray, weathered, amiable face. Like someone’s tough but fair dad, rather than a hardened criminal.

Maverick, then. Pongo’s president.

“What choice did we have?” she asked, stepping up behind the recliner overtop of which she could see the tips of Pongo’s finger-scraped curls. “I can’t include anything the Dogs dug up as evidence in my case, and Pongo can’t very well tell you guys he’s helping the police, can he?”

She felt like someone who’d just thrown down a very heavy gauntlet at the feet of a warlord.

Ergo, she felt like an idiot.

But she kicked her chin up, because she was a stubbornly brave idiot, if nothing else. If things were going to go to hell once the MC got involved, she’d rather that hell kick off straight away, without a lingering sense of doom.

Maverick met her gaze with an amused one, one corner of his mouth lifting. “Yep. Like I said: mean as a snake.”